


anything but impulse

by Signel_chan



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Gen, Mother/Son Bonding, Playing With Canon Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 03:12:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6221260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Signel_chan/pseuds/Signel_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>facts. logic. research-based decisions. never impulse. except when Laurent's involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	anything but impulse

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jpe (Anamika)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anamika/gifts).



> let's pretend that a mother doesn't have to be at S support to meet her future child, shall we?

Miriel is, has always been, and will always be one for solid factual evidence backing her opinions. She doesn’t act on impulse so much as she acts on well-thought ideas, and she most certainly never acts without at least some regard to all possible outcomes. But when it comes to Laurent, she finds it hard to act on anything _but_ impulse, as if there is something within her that isn’t logical telling her what to do.

This boy is, undeniably and unmistakably, her child. She cannot prove this through any scientific means, but his word is enough to make her believe with every fiber of who she is that he belonged to an older, wiser, more experienced version of herself in some long-lost timeline. She looks upon him over the rim of her glasses, noting the similarities in their features, down to their pointed jawlines and narrow faces; if he isn’t actually her child, he is a near-perfect replica of what her hypothetical child may have ended up looking like, had she any desire to spend her time on procreation rather than scientific advancements. Alas, she only has plans to marry herself to her life’s work, and that means no room for getting married, conceiving a child, and then raising him to adulthood. Laurent, despite the fact that the most solid proof she has is his appearance (which could be deceiving) and his word (which could be fabricated), is her son and nothing will cause her to change that opinion.

Together they can achieve anything, she believes, from minor discoveries to things that will change the world as they know it, for better or worse. And together they do achieve many things that she would be unable to do on her own—it’s nice to know that he is there, striving to reach all the same goals as her, a shoulder to lean on when the theoretical ideas start to become too difficult to bring to reality. He is by all means her intellectual equal, and without him coming into her life by means of Naga’s will, she would never have gotten the chance to cross all the scientific and magical bridges that she has.

There is only one large thing that differs between them, she notices, and while it is not anything that would discredit the belief that he is her child, it is definitely something of note. When turning in for bed at night after a long day of work, Miriel brings with her a book of theories and studies them until she falls asleep; when Laurent tucks in for the night, he brings with him something less studious and casually browses it until his eyes can’t handle the words any longer. When she found out about this habit of his, she gave him a straight-lipped look and asked him, quite simply, if he was lying about being a man of research and study.

The accusation was something he fully expected, but his reasoning for such a habit was solid. In the years he spent roaming the land, looking not just for his friends but for the Shepherds and his mother, there was a severe lack of high-level texts to be found, and so he turned to whatever was easily-accessible to read before bed. Even once he was brought back into the fold of companions, he kept with the reading of light books as opposed to thicker ones, as it was what he had grown accustomed to.

 _I cannot say that I enjoy this response_ , Miriel remembers telling him, _but I must accept it as fact, much as I have accepted your parentage in the same manner_. He gave a soft laugh when she spoke, pulling his hat down a bit over his face to hide the amusement in his eyes, and she vividly remembers feeling nothing but pride at her future self for having raised such a charming man as her child.

A charming man whom, when she routinely checks in on him before she retires for the evening, is curled up with various novels about young love, about strapping heroes going after lady loves, about adventurers who have no sense of what true adventure is. He seems enthralled with them, reading the same books over and over again, to the point that she is confident she can poke her head into the room and correctly name the title of his current read without much thought. Some nights, he demands that she leaves the room at once, so that he can read in peace. Others, he doesn’t mind her checking in, but once she starts to speak he asks for her to leave. And then there are nights where he sees her and sets his book aside, looking at her as if he wants to speak.

If Laurent so chooses to start talking at night, despite how tired she may be, Miriel is always fine with listening to what he has to say. “Mother, I understand that I am not your progeny, but I am rather the progeny of a distant version of yourself,” he always begins, before breaking into some story of his time spent alone wandering, or of his time spent in the future before the foul dragon Grima destroyed everything he called his. She tries to act more interested about what he’s saying than she actually is; while his stories are quite entertaining, they sound more like make-believe than reality, although she is quite sure that he isn’t fabricating details just to please her.

Besides, the stories of his she likes best are the ones that have them sitting as equals, him half-asleep and her nodding off, where he talks about things that they have a mutual interest in. He talks about spells he’s encountered over the years and she asks questions about them, some of which he answers only with a tired yawn and a soft “I’m unsure, Mother” that echoes through the room. She understands that he doesn’t know everything, and neither does she, but together they will come to learn everything that they possibly can.

One night when she checks in on him, she finds him deeply engrossed in the book in his hands, to the point that she is able to approach him without him paying any attention to what she’s doing. But without looking up from the page he’s on, he speaks to her. “Mother, may I ask a personal question?” His voice is hesitant, as if he has no real intentions of asking what troubles him, but she sits beside him and slowly, deliberately, puts her arm around him, hugging him close to let him know he can indeed ask. “How does a person of high intellect, such as myself, express their inner feelings to someone else?”

Miriel inhales sharply, words catching in the back of her throat as she thinks about how to respond to such an inquiry. Truth be told, she has no honest idea of how to do what he’s asking of her, but she cannot exactly admit to that, not without consequences. Perhaps he will accuse her of lying, or worse, question further about how he exists. “It’s a complicated process,” she begins, shaky words to start, “one that I myself have yet to master. In due time, however, I am absolutely positive that you and I will both acquire this ability.”

“All of the texts, the novels, everything, they explain it as a rush of emotions, the blood that courses through one’s veins choosing to flow only for one person. They explain it as a most magnificent task, something that…” He trails off, looking down at the book he is still holding, before closing the thick tome and casting it aside. “Never mind, Mother. It was a pointless question and some aimless dreaming on my part.”

“There are never pointless questions,” she tells him, “merely unanswered hypotheses. Now let us discuss this further. What prompts this?” She knows that Laurent will not give her a straight answer, and he doesn’t, choosing instead to tell her that he is exhausted and that he would like to be left alone. This does not mean that the subject has been dropped, though; it merely means that she will have to come back to it at a later date.

From then on, whenever she checks in on her future child before bed, she makes absolute sure to check what the book he is reading is about. Most times they are ones he has read before, ones she has seen him with many times, but on occasion, there seem to be older texts, ones about non-scientifically based draughts and concoctions with shady purposes. Whenever he holds a tome of such nature in his hands and she pokes her head in for discussion, he is quick to shoo her away, not wanting to face questioning about why he is focusing so heavily on such manners.

She knows why, however, with no questions needed to be asked. He’s in love with someone and ashamed to be in such a state. There is no solid, factual data to back up this claim, but as it deals with Laurent, she knows it is inherently true—she can read him much like he reads those texts, and that is how the situation goes. She is almost certain that he is aware of this skill she has, and because of this, he tries to be more discreet when it comes to reading things of the romantic variety.

One night she comes in to find him with diagrams of ferocious beasts strewn throughout the room, several books laying open to pages about the same creatures. There is too much information around for him to hide everything, so while he looks at his research materials in shame, she looks at them with eyes wide with curiosity, wondering if this will unlock the mystery of whom he has romantic feelings for. She has a mental list of all the female future children, one that she checks off with every clue that goes against what she knows of the ladies—seeing tomes on creatures, her suspicion automatically goes to the clumsy girl with the pegasus, but when she sees the first picture of a wyvern’s scale pattern, her hypothesis crumbles into dust.

Her son, her dearest Laurent, is infatuated with the wyvern-riding boy. She smiles at this news, eyes darting from one picture to the next, trying to understand what draws her child to such a person, but she comes to no conclusions. “Laurent,” she begins, finally turning her attention from what covers the room to the boy within it, “why have you not approached this topic with me prior to this moment? If you are looking for information on wyvern upkeep, perhaps you should confer with someone skilled in the task, rather than texts on the matter. Hands-on interaction in a field such as this one may prove more useful.”

“I am steeling myself for such an endeavor,” he replies, coughing once the words have left his mouth. He’s pulling the brim of his hat down over his face to obscure his rapidly-reddening cheeks, ashamed to be caught in such a state. “Mother, please, do not cause this to become a more difficult task than need be.”

She raises a finger to hush him, her eyes tracking back towards one of the diagrams. “I am merely making a suggestion for a course of action. There is no need to follow my word.” She can’t help but notice that the particular diagram she’s looking at looks hastily-drawn, the rider on the back of the wyvern a familiar sight to her eyes. “However, it would be in your best interests to do so, lest you allow your perfect instructor to become enamored with someone else.”

His face falls, and although she is unable to see it, she can hear the disappointment in his voice when he speaks. “That is quite the issue here, Mother. What if he is uninterested in me, due to a myriad of reasons? My appearance, my personality, something that is part of the framework that makes me, er, me. I will not change who I am to earn his affection, but I fear that changing myself may be the only way.”

“There is no need to alter who you are. If he is interested in you, then he would be based on what you currently are, not what you potentially could be.” Having never exactly had a chance in romantic endeavors, Miriel knows that her words are next to meaningless, but she knows she needs to try being supportive of Laurent in his quest for a partner. He doesn’t say anything audible once she finishes talking, instead choosing to close up some of his texts, and she takes this as a sign that she should leave.

The next time she stops by to check on him is weeks later, knowing that being a doting mother is not in her genetic code and would most likely end up with her child feeling even more annoyed by her actions. She pokes her head in the room, like so many times before, and is shocked to find that he is not inside, not reading like always. Her stomach clenches in fear, and if it were possible, her heart would most certainly have skipped a beat. What could possibly have happened to him? A million possibilities running through her head, she takes her leave, only to come back several times over the course of the night, each time being greeted with an empty room.

Her last visit proves to be fruitful, but the first person she sees inside is not Laurent, but rather the wyvern rider, sitting next to him and explaining something about his mount in his gravelly voice. She doesn’t make her presence known, only cracking a smile at the sight, and she hopes that neither of the boys noticed she was there in the first place.

Something inside of her feels overjoyed at the sight, seeing her son getting a chance to at least speak with the man he desires. Something else feels pangs of loneliness—what if Laurent and that boy get together? Where does that leave her? Out and alone, with no one to call a companion and no child to perform research studies with.

She is not normally one for acting on impulse, but Miriel is fairly certain it’s time to find a spouse and create her own Laurent.


End file.
